I woke at 1.30am this
morning following a rather vivid dream in which the river Exe (in
Devon?) was about to flood the world. For no explicable reason
only I could save humanity by somehow creating a huge milk churn out
of the contents of the local branch of Curry's. It's amazing how
shook up I was by this; I didn't get back to sleep properly after
that shock, and dozed fitfully until brekkie time.
I blame the trauma of
being left "Home Alone" and unsupervised.
Over brekkie I watched
another episode of "Dad's Army" in which they didn't like
it up 'em. As I watched I fed half my toast do my dog; completely
forgetting that he's supposed to be on a diet.
I was on the early shift
today; as I drove the pundits on the radio were lambasting the Prime
Minister. In a recent interview the chap has said that should he win
the upcoming election he'd be pleased with the result, but he has no
intentions of trying for a
third term in office. Personally I think that's a sensible
decicion; however those who make the news have seen this as a golden
opportunity to start speculation about his successor some five years
preamturely. And an inordinate amount of air-time was wasted on the
subject.
There was also mention
about money being allocated to the University of Nottingham solve
some of the most
famous mathematical problems of our time.
One of the problems they
are trying to sort out is to prove or disprove the
Riemann hypothesis. I can remember having the matter explained to
me as a maths undergraduate and I couldn't make head or tail of the
matter. As I recall it had something to do with integration.
I respect and admired
those who have an inkling of what it is all about. But (as usual)
the presenters on the radio tried to make fun of the subject in an
unconvincing attempt to cover their own ignorance. Why do they always
ridicule anything they don't understand?
I got to work; I did what
I had to, and at lunch time I had an amazingly successful sax
session. I'm perhaps a little piccolo on my vibrissimo, but my "Moon
River" is every bit as sexy as the current TV ad for
chocolate.
An early start made for
an early finish. I came home and ran "Furry Face TM"
round the park where he expressed his physical love for a poodle. The
poodle in question was a boy poodle; my dog was clearly never
confused.
Being a Tuesday the clans
gathered; this time without me. Several restless nights have taken
their toll; being out late wouldn't be a good idea today... I had an
early night instead.
And in other news
"Daddies Little Angel TM" has been
bashed up off of a seagull. The feathered fiend swooped from nowhere,
slapped her firmly in the mouth with its wing, and made off with her
cheeseburger. Personally I think it is hilarious, but she is
distraught, and apparently in quite a bit of pain too.
It would seem that
getting bashed up off of a seagull is akin to all of life's other
misfortunes; only funny when happening to someone else.
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